


A Prank To End All Pranks

by dkenedy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8549440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkenedy/pseuds/dkenedy
Summary: When Hermione discovers the truth about her friends, she turns to a master in revenge.





	1. Chapter 1

**A Prank To End All Pranks**  
**Chapter One**

**Desperate Times**

* * *

The library was dim and quiet as always; the smell of musky ink and parchment lingered in the air, a scent which always put Hermione Granger at ease. She sat comfortably, nestled in her chair as she put the finishing touches on the potions essay she had been working on for the last four hours. Her quill fell silent after scratching out her closing sentence and, with a sigh of relief, Hermione began returning her textbooks to their proper place. She was rounding Aisle 114: Ingredients and Magical Artefacts when she heard a familiar voice.

"She's mental if she thinks I'm helping her." The unmistakeable Ronald Weasley's yelled loudly, his words echoing across the high ceilings. Hermione stopped her dead in her tracks; the many books which rested in her forearms trembled with unease. "S.P.E.W was one thing, but this is ridiculous."

"Ron," another voice mumbled, shushing Ron, and Hermione placed her books down on the side table before carefully making her way down the aisle. It sounded like Harry, but she was not quite sure. The mumbled words became clearer as she reached the end of the row, and when he spoke again, Hermione was sure it was him. "We both know it'll never pass. Goblins aren't going to get equal wages; no one likes them anyway." The voice broke out into a soft snicker, and Hermione almost let out a gasp. Were they laughing at her? How could they laugh at her? Ron, well, he would laugh at her, and probably not hide it in the slightest, but Harry? She peeled a book from the shelf, looking through the empty hole where it once sat. Ron, Harry, and Ginny were sitting at a work table, looking down at the petition she wrote for them to read.

"She's our friend," Ginny spoke up, and Hermione smiled in relief. Ginny Weasley was her friend; she always stood up for Hermione. Like Hermione would for Ginny. This was friendship at its finest. The boys would learn a lesson now. "Just play along for her sake." Maybe, she jumped to conclusions a little too soon. Her eyes got glassy, and her breath hitched in an attempt to keep in a sob. The only people she thought would understand her ambition to assist magical creatures were _mocking her_. The support she thought was there was all a lie. They faked it out of pity.

It was as if the world was crashing below her, the floor giving way and causing her to fall into a pit of despair. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of their generation, was one big joke. Not just to the wizarding world, but to her best friends. The far away reality that surrounded her started to disappear. Hermione vaguely heard the discussion turn to the topic of Quidditch. It was a blur, placing the book back onto the shelf, grabbing her things, and making her way out of the library; it was all an out of body experience, and Hermione had no idea how she wound up in the dungeon corridor until a cruel and familiar voice broke her concentration.

"What are you doing down here, Mudblood?" Draco Malfoy. Merlin, help her. This was just what she needed. Draco and his goons' mockery were the icing on the cake. She steeled herself to look straight ahead as her eyes welled up with more tears. The barrage of insults would start soon. "Granger, you haven't answered me yet."

She refused to meet Draco's eyes, or even see where he was or who he was with, but when she felt a hand tug her around, she finally broke. A sob escaped her lips before she could contain it. It was as if the physical touch shocked her into feeling, even if it was one of malice. The gasp of her shuddered sob echoed off the walls and caused Draco's hand to retract instantly. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her lungs brought air rapidly into her chest, and her body was shaking at the weight of her sadness. It was the first time she let anyone see her cry like this, and it was not just anyone. It was Draco Malfoy. Today was truly the luckiest of days.

"Hermione?" He asked, his voice morphing into one of sympathy, and it was then that she realised the ultimate humiliation of this. She looked so distraught that her enemy had sympathy for her. After noting that the blonde mess of hair which stood before her was alone, she met his gaze, refusing to give away any bit of her strength. But, then they locked eyes, his compassion showing through, concern conveyed through their visual interlock, and she faltered.

Her archenemy was showing more regard for her feelings than any of her friends in the library, and with as much speed as she could muster, she turned on her heel and ran. Draco called out to her trying to aide with directions back to the Gryffindor common room, but she turned left instead, reaching the staircase she desired. Taking the steps two at a time, she slowly started to crumble.

The tears dripped off her chin as she ran down the dark Hogwarts' corridor. Her breath came out in puffs, her hair even more frizzy than usual, and her shoulders shuddered with the sobs she tried to stifle. She picked up her pace and rounded the corner, bursting through the door to the perfect's washroom and slamming it closed.

Finally alone, the girl allowed herself to succumb to her tears entirely. With her back pressed to the door, Hermione slid down and curled her knees to her chest, as she relived humiliating memories. Her friends' cruel words, Draco's kindness, and the hope she still had for the magical community.

This is the final straw. But, how exactly was she going to fix this? As she started to contemplate her options, her hope faded. Who she could ask for help with the plan that was beginning to form in her mind? Her ideal option was out of the question. Draco, although having just helped her, was not an option. Her roommates were too preoccupied with fashion and boys. The solutions were slowly dwindling when it dawned on her.

How had she not thought of it before? Grabbing a quill and scrap parchment, she began to write out her message. Tonight. She would need an answer tonight.

* * *

 

George Weasley had never been one for social gatherings. Sure, he attended, but Fred was the more sociable twin. If we were honest here, George preferred to sit at home with a small group of close friends. The thought of mingling with a crowd of overly obnoxious people annoyed him. They were pompous, proud, and, well, prats. They were all moronic, self-absorbed prats.

So, how did he get through so many of these events? Sarcasm. Being sarcastic to them without them realising, well, that he enjoyed. Unfortunately, even that was not much of an entertainment tonight. Meeting the new people that were supposed to invest in the business was growing tiresome. With a sigh, he finished the last of his fire whiskey, the familiar burn warming his stomach caused a smile to creep across his lips. He could always leave that to Fred.

It was perfect. Fred, with his constant need for the new, would handle the shmoozing of the investors, and George, with his constant need to design, would go home and work on a new product. He spotted his twin on the other side of the room; he was talking to a bald man with a very, _very_ , long moustache, and before George could even make his way over to him, Fred looked up and nodded.

Ah, the joys of having a twin who could read his mind. His smile widened, and George excused himself out onto the quiet balcony to apparate home. He did not have the energy to say goodbye to each person in the room. It was better this way. And, as he turned back to see the bald man actually trip over on the long hairs, his laughter popped out into silence. Definitely better this way.

The flat was quiet and so warm. For some reason, investors' parties were always so chilled. This was the fourth one in the last two weeks, and it seemed to be the common theme amongst business owners. Cold atmosphere; how was that supposed to conjure a sociable mood? The December night was unusually warm, but that did not mean you should keep the balcony door open all night and refuse to let anyone close it. The stupid git.

And, that was exactly why Fred handled investors.

Collapsing on the couch, George removed his tie and threw it behind him blindly when— _BANG!_

The empty apartment exploded with violent sounds, and George jumped up into a battle stance. A large brown owl was flying around the room, shrieking with anger, blinded by the very tie George had thrown over his shoulder.

"Shit," he mumbled before pulling the fabric off the bird, after many bites. "Sorry, little guy. I didn't mean it, honest. You're such a good mail carrier; I had no idea you're even here," he cooed, trying to calm the obviously irate owl. "Can I see that letter you got there?"

Owls were very proud creatures it seemed. All you had to do was stroke their ego a bit, and they loved you. George always found that worked. It was why Percy's owl always followed his instructions and not Percy's. Weatherby still did not know how George managed to change all Percy's signatures to read his proper title: Weatherby Weasley, the first of his name.

He untied the letter and took in the familiar scribble, holding it away from his face before bringing it close again. Why on earth would he get a letter from her? What was stranger still is that it was written solely to him; why him? The bird rubbed his beak against George's finger before flying over to perch onto the window sill, apparently waiting for his reply. Oh, he was beyond curious now.

_George,_

_I know this may sound a little forward, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I need you to sneak into the castle. We need to talk, and I cannot have a letter be intercepted._

_Meet me at the perfect's bathroom._  
4 AM.  
Tonight.

_If you agree, tell the owl, and he will know what to do. No need for parchment._

_Hermione._

_PS. Burn the evidence._

George laughed. Had she gone bonkers? Was this some sort of covert mission? I mean, yes, he was a part of the Order now, but 'burn the evidence?' Oh, this was incredible. Looking up at the clock, he realised he only had twenty minutes. With a smile, he threw the letter into the fireplace and set it ablaze. _Burn the evidence_ , he thought before laughing again and looking to the owl.

"Tell her I'll see her in twenty." The owl hooted loudly before flying off into the night sky. Grabbing his cloak off the hook, he smiled. This was going to be an exciting evening; that was for sure.

* * *

**Please review!**


	2. Late

**A Prank To End All Pranks**   
**Chapter Two**

**Late**

* * *

He was late. Well, alright. He was not late yet. But, he was not early, and that may as well be late. This was a dangerous plan, and Hermione needed George to be incognito. And on time. Well, early. He needed to be early. She was pacing the length of the bathroom once more, muttering under her breath, when his voice startled her into a soft shriek.

"My mission?" George's tone was stoic and direct like a spy in those old Muggle espionage movies they watched over the summer with his family. Hermione wanted to kill him for not taking this seriously. This was important, and as soon as her heart regained its normal rhythm, she would give him a piece of her mind.

"George," her voice was breathy and coming out in gasps. "You scared me. How long have you been here?"

"Ten minutes," he said with a smile as he stepped out of the shadows. "I wanted to see how long you were going to pace for. I was starting to feel bad for the floor." So, he was early. Good. She smirked. "Are you going to tell me what's going on yet?"

"Shh! Not here," she whispered, looking around to see if anyone else was listening.

"Are you kidding me!" He laughed again, "No one is here. Just tell me what's going on."

They could not talk. Not yet. She moved around the bathroom, placing a towel under the door to make sure absolutely no sound escaped, and that no one else was here before she pulled him into the small alcove of the bathroom.

"Her-Hermione?" He asked with wide unsure eyes, but Hermione was oblivious. No, they needed secrecy before they could talk. That was precedent right now. When she was sure it was just them, she looked up at him, her brown eyes locking with the blue oceans of curiosity. Hermione bit her lip in anxiety. Maybe this was not the greatest route to take. A fire ignited in her belly as she hoped that he would not turn down her proposal.

"I need your help," her voice was no louder than a whisper. This was not her proudest moment. The moment she needed to ask for help from someone. And not just help in something trivial, help with righting the wrongs done on to her.

"Well, yes," George's brow was raised in question as he urged her to continue. "You said that in your letter." She looked up into his eyes, the shards of blue were so sincere and concerned. So familiar. She had not realised how much she missed those eyes this year. Her sixth year. It was the first year since George and Fred left the school, and she was suddenly overcome with sadness. The thought of them not being there was unbearable. She gulped and then it all unloaded from her mind in a verbal mess. The library, the conversation, her campaign, her friends, Draco. And George, he just sat beside her in the alcove. Both of them resting against the wall, Hermione with her knees to her chest and George's legs stretched out. She cried. He listened. And, when she finished, the silence took over them for several moments, but even that was comforting. Her head rested on his shoulder while his arm slung around hers in a tender embrace. It felt nice. It felt right.

"So," he said, breaking the silence. "You want to prank them."

With a smile, she nodded. Oh, George knew her well. She did not need to even ask. It was obvious to him what she wanted and what Hermione wanted was revenge. She wanted to get even, but she was not an expert on pranking. Not yet, anyway, but with a master's help, she would be.


	3. wickedly perfect

**A Prank To End All Pranks**   
**Chapter Three**

**Wickedly Perfect**

* * *

George said he would return within a week, and he did. He promised, after all, and he always kept his promises. Those prats really needed to get taught a lesson, and he was determined to help with that. Honestly, he would have done it all himself, but something in the way Hermione's eyes glimmered with the prospect of revenge made him intrigued. It was, well, _hot_. Hermione Granger wanted to prank someone. Not just anyone either. Harry, Ron, and Ginny. This was glorious.

There was no way in hell he was going to miss being a part of changing Hermione Granger, perfect student, into Hermione Granger, prankster extraordinaire. He had a plan, and she was going to be a vital part of it.

And she deserved it, the revenge. What kind of friends do not support their friend's passion? For Merlin's sake, it was not like she was wrong either. Goblins did deserve equal pay. They did a hell of a lot of work, just like house elves, why not get a fair compensation? Wizards were not slave owners. They are above bigotry and discrimination, right? So, should not that include all magical sentient beings? Those gits just did not know what brilliance walked the halls at Hogwarts'. If he was honest, despite finally getting his dream career and watching his business succeed, he was thoroughly excited to be sneaking back into Hogwarts'. Especially, if that meant spending time 'pranksterfying' Hermione.

He climbed through the passageway and into the empty hall, sneaking towards their meeting place. Tonight they would prep. Tomorrow they would prank.

"George?" she whispered as he walked into the hidden alcove where Fred and he used to brew their products. The scorch marks were still on the walls, and it smelled like musty books and parchment. The scent eased him. The nostalgia was hitting him hard here. The place he made his start as a real prankster was where Hermione would begin her journey into rule breaking. It was so cheesy, and yet, so fitting.

"Yeah, it's me." He hugged her in greeting, and she was apparently surprised by it. What can he say, he is a sucker for nostalgia. It made him sappy, and he could not help it. The hug certainly was not because he was necessarily happy to see her. Well, he was. Of course, he was happy to see her, but not _happy_ to see her in a way other than just happy. Make sense? No? Well, that was the way it was.

"So," she said, pulling back and settling into the corner. There were books and parchment and ink all over the place. Clearly, she had been working on homework. That was not okay.

"Are you working on a potion's essay?" he asked, completely aghast. She nodded. "No. Not here. I showed you this place. Do not sully it with your school work." She laughed, but he did not. This was serious. The Weasley Twin legacy was made here. This was not okay. This was a place to relax and goof off.

"Oh," her giggles trailing off into composure, "you-you're serious. Sorry. I didn't mean to bother you with it. It's just nice and quiet here, and away from people." An escape. He sighed. I guess, she needed an escape. She did deserve one after all.

"You can read here if you want, but not for school." She smiled, and he felt good about it. Like, really good. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. But, a friendship cloud. Yes. A cloud made of friendship. He was just pleased she was content. That she felt safe in the same places he did. It was not because she smiled or anything. Sure, she had a great smile, but he was here to turn her into a prankster. And smiling was a part of it. Of course, it was…

Just friends. They were just friends.

"Thank you," she whispered, and he settled next to her before pulling out a phial of clear potion. Her face instantly morphed into a serious expression. "So, this is it?"

"Yup," he said.

"And, it lasts how long again?"

"One hour."

"And, you tested it?" Oh, this would not do. She was way too solemn. This was important, yes, but this was supposed to be fun. This was not a poison. It was a fun juice. Well, fun for her, not fun for the drinker of said fun juice.

"Hermione," his voice was a firm reminder of what they had discussed in the planning stage.

"Right, right. I forgot," she turned to him, all fear and hesitation gone. Hermione truly was invested in this. She wanted to go through with the plan. He could see it in her eyes, that glimmer, that wild abandon. It was there. She wanted to get her revenge.

Staring at her, he could not help it. His finger brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She was wickedly brilliant. _Wickedly_ _perfect_. And now she did it, smiling again. The wild smile. They all thought she was prim and proper. Reserved and cautious. Hermione fooled them all so well, but not him. No, George could see it. He always could. She was reckless and careless. Smart and cunning, but wild. And _wickedly perfect_.

So, he kissed her. A fierce, carefree kiss. One that was passion and love. And, one he could not say was out of friendship either. And, she kissed him back with that same intensity. It was brilliant. Even as he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, breathing her in, he could feel it. That unhindered emotion.

"Wow," her words were breathless and full of wonder. He truly had missed her.

Until his secret mission he had not realised how much. Sure, he saw her in the summer. They watched some films on that television his father brought and went for walks in the meadows near his home. But, he had gone four months without her there. Four months without her telling him to abide by the rules while breaking them herself. It was too long, and now that he kissed her, the next two weeks until Christmas vacation would feel even longer.

So, he kissed her again. Softer, taking his time, expressing his emotion and devotion. He never wanted to kiss anyone else now that he tasted her. Merlin, did she even know that?

"Hermione," George said against his lips, kissing her once more before pulling back, "I-I," he stuttered. This was more complicated than he thought. "I just-I need to tell you that." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I think, I think I may love you."

And there it was. The words just hung between them, but it was enough to destroy a planet with the weight of them. George was sure he ruined it. Whatever friendship they had was now gone. He was about to stand and leave when her lips stretched into a smile once more.

"I think I may love you too." That was all he needed. Something inside him snapped, bursting into a million colours. He claimed her lips in another heated kiss, a grin never leaving him as he held her closer. George had been fooling himself far too long; Hermione Granger was not his friend. She was everything.


	4. Revenge

**A Prank To End All Pranks**   
**Chapter Four**

**Revenge**

* * *

Her fingers fiddled with the stopper, small crumbs of cork crumbling with her motions. This phial was it. Two drops in each cup of pumpkin juice and they would learn. Two drops. That was six drops total. Six. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Oh, she was nervous. Her hands were shaking as she walked out the common room and down to the kitchens. Her breathing was slightly erratic, and her mind was heavy with the weight of her task. Hermione Granger was certainly anxious.

She went through the plan again.

 _Step one: leave the common room before anyone awoke. Check._  
Step two: sneak into the kitchens and talk to Winky. Check.  
Step three: place the potion into the three goblets…

That one she was still working on. Her thoughts raced remembering all the moments of the previous week. The people who changed everything. Hermione learned something new about them all. Ron. Harry. Ginny. Draco. _George_.

She blushed, feeling the heat spread across her face and down into her stomach. It settled her nerves slightly. George was the greatest change of them all. She wanted to make him proud. Hermione wanted to live up to the prankster potential he always talked about. Her hands suddenly felt solid and sure as she uncorked the bottle. He would be so happy, but, that was not what prompted her to count out six drops. George would always be proud of her, even if she had not gone through with their plan. No, see, he would always think of her as brilliant and truthful to herself. This was not his doing. As she watched the potion mix with the pumpkin juice, Hermione felt her own pride swell in her chest. She was the one to start this plan in motion, and she saw it through until the end. Hermione was officially a prankster now and, with a wicked grin, she made her way into the great hall feeling a sense of completion. A confidence overtook her entirely and, with her head held high, Hermione Granger owned the world.

They would never know what hit them.

She just wished George could have seen the results. The long night of planning and strategizing, not to mention that heated kiss; all of it led to this. George should be here. She could still feel his lips seared onto hers. She could still hear his words whispering how he felt. She could still smell the sweet mint of his breath against her cheek.

Wait a minute.

That scent was far too strong to be a memory. She glanced around, looking up and down the Gryffindor table. Nothing. No, he had to be there. She was not going crazing. Yet, there was still no sight of him. But, Hermione was so sure he was here, somewhere. Suddenly, Hermione jumped in her seat. Alright, someone definitely just brushed her hair side and tucked it behind her ear.

"Shhh," George's voice whispered close, and Hermione nearly screamed but managed to quell the impulse, "Fred borrowed Harry's cloak for the morning. Couldn't miss this."

Pulling out several books, a roll of parchment, and a quill, she took over a large part of the table. Hoping this would deter anyone from sitting on her right side. She spread the books open and unrolled a rather lengthy piece of parchment and instantly became busy as she ate breakfast. Fred chuckled with approval, and she felt George's hand rest on her thigh in support.

Hermione blushed, letting the hair fall in front of her face to hide it. Good. This would not have felt right without them. She began scribbling words down, complete nonsensical words, but every once in a while she paused, letting the twins read a message hidden amongst the mess.

 _Quite anxious now._ She wrote, the letters were shaky, and George's hand squeezed in reassurance.

"It'll go brilliantly," he whispered just as the doors to the great hall opened. _Here they come._ Ron and Harry were talking loudly, obviously excited for something, but Hermione paid no attention. She did not even look up. Ignoring them was the only way this would be a success. She had been doing so for a week now, but neither of them seemed to notice.

"Morning, Hermione," Harry said taking a seat in front of her, but she said nothing. Ron sat next to him.

"What on earth are you working on so early?" He asked with what seemed to be disgust as he loaded his plate with an endless amount of food and immediately dug in. The food was going down his throat with such speed; it was baffling.

"A proposal," she muttered finally, still refusing to send them a glance. If she did, her smile would give something away. Reaching forward, she grabbed her goblet and took a sip trying to stifle her joy. Ginny took that moment to arrive and sit next to Harry. She was not in high spirits. A frown marred her usually bright and happy face, something that had lasted for the week. Maybe, Ginny had noticed Hermione's lack of attention.

"Morning," she muttered before grabbing her goblet. Ginny was never a pleasant person to be around in the early hours to begin with, but today was much more prominent. She drank a long gulp from her cup. Pumpkin juice always made her happy, but even that kept her from elation. Ginny was about to be in for a big surprise, and as Harry handed Ron a goblet and they both drained their cups, Hermione was confident they would be too.

Two minutes had passed before the effects started to take, and Ron shrieked as Harry began to shrink.

"Harry!" he gasped, "Why are so you short?" Harry was about half his normal height, and his nose and ears were starting to elongate into a mould of a new face. Ron must not have noticed that both he and Ginny were going through the same transformation. Beside her, the bench was rattling, both Fred and George were apparently trying to contain their laughter with silencing charms.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Ginny shouted back before adding, "You look like a-a-" and then it hit her. Clearly, it did, because she smiled before staring at Hermione with eyes as wide as saucers. "You!"

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, "But why?" Harry just stayed quiet, frightened for the moment. Hermione smiled sheepishly as they all looked her way. Ginny blushed with shame. She knew. Oh, she knew.

"Well," she started, standing up and gathering her belongings. George and Fred stood with her. Unknowing to the rest of the hall, George's hand rested on her back as a show of support. "I figured you have so much in common with goblins, because, as you said in the library, _no one likes them anyway_." Putting the final book into her bag, she hardened her eyes into stone, "At least now you look the part too."

With that she, and the invisible Fred and George, left the great hall, three tiny little goblin versions of her friends staring at her retreating form with shock. The room was bursting with laughter; it seemed that the rest of the students finally noticed the three goblin students sitting at the Gryffindor table.

"We really messed up," Goblin Ginny said. She was the last voice Hermione had heard before the door shut behind her. Yes, yes they did.

* * *

_**Please Review** _


	5. Insight

******A Prank To End All Pranks**   
**Chapter Five**

**Insight**

* * *

Hermione was humming with delight. Revenge was sweet, oh, so sweet. They would think twice before crossing her again. She rounded the corner at the end of the long corridor and stepped into the hidden alcove she became so fond of. The twins had been following her the whole way, and finally becoming visible again, their beaming faces matched the joy bubbling in her stomach.

"That was brilliant, Hermione!" George immediately embraced her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her on the spot. Oh, he was proud. Definitely proud, and Hermione blushed at the affection.

"Amazing, truly," Fred said with a faked sob. He placed a hand on his chest and began fanning his face, "After my own heart. I'm so proud." His voice cracked with tears, and she laughed loudly before hugging him too.

"Thanks for all your help," she giggled as Fred winked.

"I did nothing. Georgie didn't even tell me about it until this morning when he forced me out of bed." Hermione glanced over at him. Did he keep this a secret from Fred? George leant against the wall, with his hands stuffed into his pockets; he glanced away from her sheepishly.

"You said no one could know," he mumbled. Hermione was in shock. Yes, no one could know, but _Fred?_ Fred Weasley was certainly not no one. He was aware of everything, _everything,_ going on in George's life. She was blown away by the devotion to her. Fred cleared his throat, sensing a shift in the air. George must have had a hard time keeping this from him, but it was clear Fred knew now. And, not just about the prank.

"I should get this back to Harry before he notices," Fred hugged her once more before his voice dropped to a whisper only she could hear, "it's not over for him." She looked up at him with wonder. This was not just a prank for him? Fred grinned and left Hermione standing there with a million thoughts, but only one revelation. George loved her for more than just this prankster version of herself. He loved her, and it was not something he was not sure about. And, for the hundredth time that week, Hermione smiled so widely that she thought her face would crack at the excitement of it all.

As she turned to look at him, she relaxed. George was not planning on going anywhere. Fred had left her with the greatest gift of all: insight. She walked over to him, leaning back onto the wall by his side and studying her shoes. George placed a kiss on her cheek.

"I should go too," he whispered but made no move to leave. She turned on her side against the stone, and he mimicked her actions. Her fingers reached up, brushing the shaggy strands from his forehead with affection. He was perfect. _Wickedly perfect._ And Hermione never felt so lucky. Taking a step forward, she cupped his cheek and rose to the tips of her toes. Their eyes had locked for a moment before she placed a tender kiss to his lips. He smirked against it before deepening the passion.

The sweet velvet of his tongue ran against the seam of her mouth, and she relented with zeal. Her arms looped around his neck, playing with the hair that stood up at the back of his head. This was heaven. Kissing George Weasley was the sweetest, most rewarding thing that ever happened to her. His hand held his weight above her as he pressed her against the brick, while his other arm snaked around her waist, hauling her up against him. Merlin, he smelled good. Mint and burnt wood. It filled her existence, and she shivered in delight before melting.

"We have to open the shop," George mumbled against her in between kisses and Hermione nodded before pulling away. Her eyes dropped down to his chest, watching the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. She was not ready to let go of him just yet. She did not want to wait until Christmas to see him.

"George," she whispered, uncertainty creeping back, "what do we do now?" She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering what this all meant. It was not over for him, or for her, but what was _this_ exactly. Her being a prankster. Him kissing her. How did they end up here? Oh, Merlin, and how would they tell Mrs Weasley?

George smiled widely, holding her closer.

"Mum knows," he said. Hermione's breath hitched for a moment. What? Mrs Weasley already knew? Oh, no. Hermione feared the worst. Howlers and insults. She tried not to panic. "I told her yesterday. I didn't want her to blow her top if she found out at Christmas. She was-" he paused his explanation and Hermione nearly fainted at the suspense. What? Her mind was screaming internally. She was what? "-surprised at first. But, then this weird smirk took over her face, and I was honestly scared she might have snapped into lunacy." He laughed before looking down at her with tenderness, his thumb running against her cheek in calming circles. It was working. "She was so pleased. I made her promise not to write you about grandchildren."

Hermione laughed. Oh, that was a relief. It washed over her like a wave. But, it was more calming to know that George was serious about whatever was happening. Of course, he was. George went to his mother before Fred. _His mother._ The woman who would pester him about grandbabies and marriage. George would not have said a word to her if he did not mean it. That thought must have morphed onto her face because George let his voice fill with love, his eyes burning into her as he spoke, "I'm not letting you go that easily, Granger. This is not something I plan on screwing up."

"Good," she said with conviction. Neither did she. This was the first time she felt happy and content. So carefree and safe. And, now she had to wait two weeks until she saw him again. Great. Reluctantly, she asked, "So, I'll see you at Christmas?"

"No," he said with a smile, and she deflated a little in confusion before he continued, "You'll see me tonight."

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_**Please review.** _


	6. Chapter 6 - A New Calling

**A Prank To End All Pranks**   
**Chapter 6**

**A New Calling**

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 The end of the day could not come fast enough, but finally, it was here. Hermione raced down the corridor and to her dorm, and though Harry attempted to talk to her, she narrowly avoided both he and Ron in the common room. She would deal with them later. Not now. She was busy now.

Hermione was nervous. They kissed, yes, but this was official. Tonight would be official. Hermione rummaged through her trunk trying to find that green sweater that she got for Christmas last year. It did little to keep her warm, but this was the first date, and she wanted to look nice. Since when, however, was that her mentality. She looked over at her maroon sweater that Mrs Weasley knit her for Christmas last year. That sweater was so warm, and she loved it. She was in the process of debating the merits of each outfit when the door opened.

"Hermione," Ginny said, and Hermione sighed in relief. Thank Merlin for the distraction. "Can we talk?" Ginny looked sad and guilty, and Hermione instantly felt immersed in a similar pool. Here she was thinking about outfits, and Ginny was feeling ashamed. Forgiveness immediately washed over Hermione. Ginny had not meant harm and the last week was enough to make her regret it. So, she nodded, pushing aside her clothes and taking a seat on the bed.

The two girls sat in silence for several moments before Ginny spoke again.

"I am sorry," she said but Hermione cut her off before she could speak again.

"Gin, really, it is fine," Hermione smiled, and she meant it. She had been a prat the last week as well. While Ron and Harry barely noticed her lack of attention, Ginny had. She should have been more sensitive to that. "I know you are and I just want my friend back." They lapsed into silence once more. Ginny tucked her hair behind her ear and looked around, avoiding Hermione's eye. Something was lingering in the air, something Ginny wanted to say, Hermione could tell. But, she seemed unsure. "Ginny?" Hermione asked, prompting some sort of discussion.

"I'm just going to come out and say it," Ginny sighed, suddenly determined and playing with the fabric of the green sweater that Hermione was considering, "you and George dating is the greatest thing to ever happen." Hermione's mouth dropped open. That she was not expecting. Firstly, _the greatest thing?_ Second, how on earth did Ginny even know about that? Hermione was still wrapping her mind around it. For Merlin's sake, they were literally just about to go out on their first date.

"Wh-what are you-" Hermione stuttered, "I-I mean, I don't know." Words were actually failing her. "George?"

"Oh, come off it," Ginny grinned, she seemed completely enthralled by the prospect, "I knew all summer that he fancied you. I was wondering when you would realise it."

"All summer?" But, how? Ginny should have said something. Maybe then this year would not have been so dull. Ron and Lavender were becoming obnoxious, so was Harry with his girl drama, not to mention Ginny and Dean. It was starting to really get on Hermione's nerves. That is why their discussion in the library hurt so much. Hermione, at that moment, realised how lonely she was.

"Really, Hermione," Ginny laughed at Hermione's shocked expression, "I think it is brilliant." Hermione let her lips form a grin. Being with George did make her feel brilliant."Harry does too. Shocked that you pranked us, but happy for you. Ron, on the other hand. Well, he-" Hermione felt something in her stomach flip. She did not want to deal with a childish Ron Weasley breakdown right now. "I think he's a little scared of you actually. He thinks that you will out do Fred and George. It freaks him out. He keeps going on about spiders."

Ginny giggled wildly at that. Her laughter was contagious, so contagious that Hermione joined in and the two girls were nearly in tears. There was no way Hermione could out do the prank masters, but who knows, maybe one day.

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**I know you guys maybe wanted a Hermione George final, but I kind of felt this was more fitting.**

**Anyway, please review!**


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